Fallout SIN
by tttelekinesis
Summary: I have sinned. Drabbles of my SS, Emery. In which everybody (more or less) loves her tattoos, and she (more or less) strips to show them off. Also featuring a romanced MacCready, who is confused more often than not. I'll probably rewrite a lot but criticism is welcome. you don't have to be kind but it would be greatly appreciated. Also featured: Fahrenheit, tbc
1. I'm Boss, For Tonight

They'd stopped travelling for the day. Emery and MacCready had been whittling away at their list of tasks- get this, fix this, help this settlement, here, I'll mark it on your map. The sky was beginning to turn green around six and Emery's Geiger counter ticked away, signaling rads. "Mac," she called. He far ahead, looking to make it back to one of Emery's newly formed settlements. The people there were cozy and despite the mechanical hum of the turret, he was thankful for never having to sleep with one eye open. By the time the first irradiated lightning bolt struck, they'd managed to go from Diamond City to Goodneighbor, with Emery as navigator. She'd directed him westward rather than northward, wanting to stay in an established settlement rather than one of the straggly ones she'd started to form. When they reached the front door, he started to complain. "Boss- I mean, Emery. I wanted to go to Sanctuary- we can make i-" he was interrupted by a rumble of thunder. "Well, if you're done arguing, we'll go along now." She remarked rather sarcastically before opening the door and ushering him in first with a sweeping gesture of her arm.

Hancock was chatting with Fahrenheit by the door of the Old State House, idly wasting time while likely waiting for a drug shipment. He looked over at the two who'd just entered. A smile formed on his face. Fahrenheit smirked, eyes zeroing in on the mercenary. MacCready was her favorite to irk. He was just so irk-able. However, MacCready stomped past, fists balled at his sides and face looking rather red. Emery eyes followed him for a few moments and when safely assured he wasn't off to the Third Rail, she turned to chat with her two favorite Goodneighbors.

"If it isn't my favorite inked-up grandma." Hancock greeted, referencing Emery's prewar tattoos that spanned most of her body. Very few had the pleasure of seeing them, especially since they decorated all of her left thigh and arms, which were normally sleeved. The two engaged in small talk while Fahrenheit looked on, offering the occasional supplemental grunt or muttered "yes". Just as they were starting on the topic of the best way to make a Psycho/Med-x cocktail and how it would affect the body, MacCready returned in the same manner that he'd left. He offered no greeting to the mayor nor his lapdog with violent tendencies and grabbed Emery by the wrist, dragging her deeper into the shady settlement. Fahrenheit waved goodbye in a rather sarcastic manner and said something under her breath, much to the delight of both Hancock and herself. Snickers filled the background and MacCready walked faster.

"RJ, what's up?" Emery asked, stumbling in his wake. She never called him RJ- not unless it was tense or serious. His reply was a wordless grunt as he pulled her behind him into Hotel Rexford. "You've come to term, I see." Emery commented, eventoned. Still no response. As MacCready stormed past the counter he held up a hand in quick greeting to Claire, who nodded back, cordially. He continued to drag her by the wrist into a room. "Alright, what's the prob-"

MacCready reached out and slammed the door with a fist, interrupting Emery's oncoming question. This evoked a squeak out of Emery. He stared daggers at her as he grabbed her, their bodies flush together, bringing her in for a kiss. He stopped, less than an inch between their faces. They shared a knowing glance, and she finished the kiss, only for him to pull back. "I'm boss, for tonight." He grunted intimidatingly, but not nearly as much as when he'd been dragging her through the town. He shed his jacket, hat and scarf quickly and lifted her. "Whatever you say, boss." She purred, legs wrapping around his torso and hands grabbing his t-shirt, balling it up in her fists as they made their way to the bed. MacCready continued to look authentically displeased. Emery leaned down, kissing the spot between MacCready's eyes. He put her down on the bed, her legs still wrapped around his waist as he supported his weight with one arm on either side of her. He looked down, eyes darting from her soft, sloping breasts restrained in the form-fitting vault suit and her nipples pebbling underneath it (no bra? Just like Emery. Tsk.) To the thickness of her thighs. Emery flexed underneath MacCready, catlike. The vault suit tightened as she did this. "What now, boss?" she grinned, fingers trailing down her inner thigh. "No touching." He commanded, reaching to pin one of her hands with his own.

"Unzip." He demanded, lifting himself from over her to stand between her spread legs. His erection stood prominent in his pants. Emery had a firsthand view of this and licked her lips and obeyed, fully stripping out of the vault suit. Underneath, she only wore a thin pair of panties, as promised by her visible nipples. She eyed MacCready. He wore a wolfish grin now, looking at her. "No bra, under that tight thing? And this panties? I should've guessed you'd pull something like that." he said suggestively. He dropped to his knees, licking his lips. Emery watched him, silently hoping to leave this encounter with intact panties. MacCready hooked a finger under the waistband, tugging at them, seemingly testing their strength. "Stop playing, Mac." She whined, biting her bottom lip.

She heard the sound of tearing fabric. "M-Ahh!" she her complaint was interrupted as he licked her slit, bottom to top, long and slow. He repeated this a few times, earning elongated moans out of her. She grabbed his hair and he stopped mid-lick. "M-mac… Fuck, p-please." She pleaded as he looked up at her from between her legs, one eyebrow raised quizically. "Say it, say it, yeah." He encouraged breathily, tracing the skull on her left thigh absentmindedly with his finger. "Rrrrooooberrrttt," Emery drawled. He love hearing his name during sex. "F-fuckin' do me." She stuttered, withheld pleasure frustrating her.

He grinned and stood, grabbing Emery by the waist and turning her onto her stomach. "You ready?" he asked, having stripped of his pants and shirt. She lifted her hips to him, ass waving around like a prize, ready to be taken. He stroked his cock, standing back, drinking her in lustily. "I woulda done it even without the name. 'Specially with that view." he commented, rubbing the tip of himself against her. Emery turned her head slightly, staring at MacCready through the corner of her eye. "Robert-fuckin'-Joseph-FUCKING-MacCready," she scolded huffily, eyebrows furrowing. At this, he thrusted into her. She moaned loud enough for the entire hotel to hear.

"Robert Joseph?" he asked, pulling all the way out. Emery gasped, hands grasping the pillow underneath her.

"Boss?" she tried. He thrusted back in, burying himself to the hilt, and pulling back out.

"Gosh, Emery. You're making this really hard on me. Really hard, Em." He thrusted back in, still at a slow pace. Her hips bucked back in response. "I mean, I'm gonna need some heavy persuasion to get me through this-" he was prying for that one final plead for mercy.

"H-harder, deeper, a-anything." She begged, tired of him simply being inside of her. They shared a glance a second before MacCready went wild. He began to pound her from behind, pulling almost fully out before thrusting back in at the rate of a man on Psycho. "RJ!" Emery squealed, burying her head (and screams) in the pillow. He was wordless, but for what he lacked in diction he made up for in noises- nearly inhumane noises, at that. The moans he was producing could make a prostitute go red in the face. "Holy shit Mac," Emery managed to pant out, between moans.

"M-mac… Mac, I-I think I'm-" she was interrupted by her moans, MacCready bringing her through climax as he sought his own reward. "Em, em, f-fu-frick, Emerrrrrryyy…" his thrusts became wilder, the fast paced rhythmic thrusts slowing to him sloppily smushing himself into her, where he had been previously upright while fucking her he'd slumped, groans those of a man who was nearly at- "Cumming!" he managed, loud enough to alert the entire settlement of a man receiving pleasure.

In the Old State House, Hancock's ears perked up. A familiar sound. He laughed. "My man MacCready…" he said, followed by a puff of jet.

MacCready had pulled out and spurted all over Emery's back. "Emery," he panted, as she rolled onto her back under him.

"Good job, boss." Emery said pleasantly, rolling on her back to wrap her legs around MacCready's waist and her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. "Don't bring me back down there," he complained with a grin. "I'm tiiiredd." Emery laughed. He rolled to the side, lying next to her. "Being boss was fun," MacCready reach over to playfully flick her nipple. "You ready to start this up again?" she asked playfully, licking her lips.

"I'm sorry for scaring you Em."

"You weren't gonna hurt me."


	2. Female Bonding Time

Takes place before the events of Chapter 1.

* * *

"Hey, Fahrenheit!"

The ginger turned at the sound of her name. Emery. Vault dweller, approximately 230-something years old. Hancock had told her about the lass's "bangin' body art", too. Emery mostly wore her vault suit, like today, or on cooler days, wastelander clothes, so the tattoos were hardly ever visible. Hancock had done a little bit of touring with Emery- that he knew this came as little surprise. No surprise, actually. Fahrenheit was never surprised. Fahrenheit finished up her quick and silent analysis in less than a second.

"Hey." She greeted in her own gruff way.

"Hey back. I was wondering, d'ya wanna hang out?" Emery asked, head cocked.

Fahrenheit stared back for a silent moment. "No MacCready hanging off of you?" Emery and MacCready had recently been known to go together. This consisted of a lot more than just watching her back and taking caps, like a real merc. Fahrenheit knew that- she was the most loyal one for miles around. And she knew not to become emotionally invested or fuck clients. Stupid MacCready.

"No, he's sick." Emery answered. Fahrenheit rather liked her- when she was present, shit got done.

"Sure, let's go chill. Hancock's passed out on one of the couches." The guard turned on her heel and pushed the door to the Old State House open with her shoulder.

The pair had been drinking whiskey and chatting, from noon to sundown. Fahrenheit had taken the couch with a half-sprawled John Hancock on it and Emery had been graced with a couch to herself.

"So why does he like to fuck outside so much, right?" Emery asked, pointing with the glass she held toward the ghoul. Fahrenheit shrugged, pushing at one of his feet. She took another sip of whiskey. "He's really into that shit, I mean, I think a lot of people like it? Dunno, some of these creeps are um,"

"Creeeeeeeepppppyyyyy." Emery added, grin on her face.

"Yeah. Myy turn," Fahrenheit drawled. Another sip of whiskey.

"Shoot." Emery poured another glass of whiskey for herself, and took a sip.

"He told me about your, damn. What're they called? Anyways, he said you had them on you."

Emery stood. "The tattoos? Yeah, he loves 'em."

Fahrenheit grinned. "Shooooowwww meee."

Emery started to unzip her suit, revealing more and more cleavage as she did so. She'd soon peeled the entire thing off, standing in only her bra and panties. A Neighborhood Watchman whistled from a few feet away. Fahrenheit did too. "A skull with flowers?" she asked, confused what the two had in common. "Popular when I got 'em." Fahrenheit's eye traveled further down the thigh. "So, winged babies, flowers, skulls, and a few trees?" Pre-war shit was weird. "Yeah, I know. What the fuck. I think they're-"

"Fuckin rad, man." Hancock stirred awake. His waking sight was half-nude Emery. A shit-eating grin formed on his face. "Were you gonna take anything else off or…?"

"Go back to sleep." The pair demanded simultaneously.


	3. We Missed You! (Party, pt 1)

Little bit of self-insert inter-companion communication. Which I find hilarious.

* * *

Sole hadn't been back in a while.

And better yet, they'd taken _the dog._

Not that Dogmeat was a bad dog, it's just that there wasn't another gun beside her. Even taking Piper would've slightly reassured the band of misfits, who were all preforming their daily doings around Red Rocket.

Danse was cleaning Sole's power armor, left in the garage, another reminder of just how unsafe they were, wandering out there. He was silent, polishing the helmet with a rag. Deacon, in the absence of Sole was not so boisterous and loud. He'd quieted down in favor of reading a book Sole had once brought him. Aside from the turning of delicate, centuries old pages and the occasional squeak of a grime less T-60b helmet, there was no noise inside the garage.

Yet, under the awning, Cait was squaring up with X6. Curie stood at attention, alongside a worried Codsworth. Though he was sworn to Sole, he'd also started to care for their companions, seeing how important their health was to Sole.

But of course, they had to go and do stuff like fight a well-trained courser.

"Cait…" X6 warned, watching the fiery-haired former drug addict sway in a fighting stance.

"Don't Cait me, ya synth! I'll show ya how we do things in the Combat Zone!" what had gotten her into such a fuss no one knew. Nick seemed to have given up stopping the fight- he leaned against the building, smoking and watching the ensuing argument. "Think I could get one?" MacCready asked, coming out of the building he'd been watching Cait's shouting match from. "Yeah, Mac." Nick sighed, handing the mercenary a cigarette.

And whilst X6 prolonged his beating of Cait, on the right side of the building, Strong stood on the roof, looking confused. He'd been there all morning. Piper and Hancock were surveying the situation from the ground, the former's arm's crossed and brows furrowed and the latter with a grin on his face, chuckling slightly. "Looks fine, the roof will hold up." Hancock said, still laughing. Piper frowned. "Yeah. But can he get down?" she asked. Hancock shrugged and took a step forward.

"Hey, Strong! Can you get down?" he shouted up at the Super Mutant, who looked down.

"Yes! Strong get down on own!" Hancock stepped back and looked at Piper, and I-told-you-so look on his face.

"Strong! Come down!" she shouted, looking unhappy.

"Puny human no tell me what to do!" Strong replied. However, he slowly began to lower himself off the roof in a very awkward fashion. Piper and Hancock wandered back to the fight as Strong descended.

Cait had just run at X6, fists swinging wildly. "Jesus, what did he say?" Piper sighed, falling back into one of the seats Sole was wont to build and leave outside. Nick held up the package of cigarettes in her direction. She refused, knowing she'd pick up the habit again. He nodded at her refusal knowingly.

X6 sidestepped away from Cait, and she stopped her frontal assault, screaming a string of Gaelic curses. "Unrecognized." He deadpanned.

The ongoing noise carried over to Sanctuary. Preston ambled over, Laser Rifle at the ready. "Again?"

The garage door opened and its two occupants peeked out. "Yes. Sole has been gone for a while. This happens." Danse explained to the Minuteman, who sighed and turned back to the settlement that wasn't full of arguing idiots.

Everything went silent when Dogmeat dashed up and jumped on MacCready.

All heads turned to the only approaching road.

The blue jumpsuit was a dead giveaway. "Sole!" a chorus of voices, a particularly prominent whirring noise, and one "HUMAN." Even Preston ventured back over the bridge. Sole waved. "We'll have a party, eh?" they proposed, walking up to the old gas sign and placing a duffel on the ground. "Dogmeat, the honors?" Sole prompted and the dog opened the bag, revealing a lot of alcohol. "Impressive, right? I didn't pay for any of it." They said proudly. Nick looked into the bag. There were a few bottles marked with bloody fingerprints. "Dear lord." He commented.


End file.
